


Scenario 23

by rideswraptors



Series: Kastle Scenarios [23]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, see first work for warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: “He’s just checking in.”“With breaking and entering and...flowers?” she followed up, voice dripping with skepticism.“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karen responded, turning on her heel to sort out their food and drinks, “he has a key.”





	Scenario 23

She hadn’t expected to take up being friends with Trish Walker, of all people. But it made sense. They both cared about someone who was...too much. Too much of everything. Lived too much, felt too much, hurt too much. Trish and Jessica weren’t exactly on speaking terms, as Jessica wasn’t in a forgiving state of mind, so Karen had offered to help keep her mind off things. Went out for drinks, shopping, normal female friendship stuff. But both of them were definitely more comfortable going through a couple bottles of wine and talking over story ideas, exposes, who was next on the list to be targeted. Karen was surprised that Trish had never utilized Jessica’s PI services. Trish had sheepishly replied that it was too much like taking advantage. Karen had no such qualms, and Jessica was actually pretty entertaining to be on stakeouts with. 

 

They were revving up for another such night; sushi, chardonnay, thick files, and plenty of things to bitch about, at Karen’s place. Trish had some weird hangups about people being in her space, and Karen didn’t mind at all. Trish Walker was hardly the most threatening person to walk through her door. 

 

Trish was ranting about a guy she’d interviewed who kept trying to play footsie with her on the air as they came through Karen’s front door. Karen was nodding and laughing because the man she was referring to had a reputation at the  _ Bulletin _ . The women called him the Groper, and men routinely (and chivalrously) offered to step in and do the interviews with him. 

 

“Just god awful. I mean, he wa--Hey,” Trish said, stopping short of her kitchen. Karen whirled around, concerned at her tone, and followed her gaze which was glued to the coffee table. On it was a bouquet of white lilies. Her favorite, actually. “Were those here when we left?” Trish continued, shaking Karen out of her stupor. She sighed and went over to move them to the counter, just so they were out of the way but still in view. 

 

“No,” Karen answered, heat rising in her cheeks. “He’s just checking in.” 

 

“With breaking and entering and...flowers?” she followed up, voice dripping with skepticism. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karen responded, turning on her heel to sort out their food and drinks, “he has a key.” 

 

“So you’re cool with him showing up whenever... great,” Trish mused, mostly to herself.

 

“Trish,” she said, an edge of warning in her voice. She didn’t have to continue. Her friend held up her hands in defeat and asked where she kept the wine opener.

 

They finished that wine and were up late pouring over files, cross-checking what they’d read with one another, and asking for verification on questions they posed. Trish would have kept them there all night except that Karen didn’t really want her to be there after 1 AM. Not because she was against Trish crashing on her couch. But she was going to have much more preferable company. So Karen sent her home in a cab and made her promise to text once she was safely inside. She waved her off and went to get ready for bed. Before she turned off the lights, she put the vase of lilies in her window. 

 

It was barely 1:30 when he slipped into her bed. 

 

She was sleep heavy and a little wine-drunk, but when his hands skimmed over her bare belly, squeezed her hip before sliding down her thigh, Karen pushed into the touch. She reached up to pull his head down to hers, snag his lips for a long, thorough kiss. His stubble scraped against her skin, and he’d already stripped his clothing. He was burning, burning her up, setting her nerves on fire, radiating heat that settled in her bones like nothing else could. 

 

“Hey honey,” he breathed into her mouth, sliding his tongue in to tease and coax her out of her semi-conscious state. 

 

“ _ Frank _ ,” she whined, “too long this time.” 

 

“I know, honey, I know. M’sorry.” She cut off his apology with her mouth, twining her limbs around him to keep him close. It didn’t change the fact that it had been three weeks this time. It didn’t change the fact that he’d be gone again by morning, chasing down leads on an escaped Billy Russo. Karen shoved all of that aside and tilted her head away so that he had more access to her neck. He kissed and sucked a trail up along the edges of her muscle, nuzzling at the sensitive skin behind her ear before latching onto it with his lips. She keened up, lifting her hips up against him, wanting more of everything. 

 

He appeased her. Dipped fingers inside of her, stretching and rubbing at the saturated flesh. He dropped his mouth to kiss and suck at her breasts. Karen felt completely out of control, and was more than willing to hand that over to him for a while. He always made her feel so good. She nearly cried when his big body slid down hers so that he could use his mouth on her. 

 

Karen had a hard time thinking clearly after that. 

 

He wasn’t satisfied until she was limp and cooing at him, wanting him in her so bad she could scream. Only then did he slide himself into her slick entrance, so wet and ready for him that the resulting sound of their coming together was obscene. He moved hard and fast on top of her, kissing her to keep her quiet, braced up on his elbows to give him better leverage. Karen babbled inanely at him, repeating the same praise over and over again, but they were the only words she could manage because he felt  _ so good _ . 

 

When he was grunting and panting at her, hips snapping forward erratically, Karen clenched down on him hard and swiveled her hips, pulling an all-out snarl from his lips. He sat up, away from her, to spear viciously into her wet heat, once, twice, three more times before he was wailing out his release. Nearly collapsed on her, hung his head as his body quaked from sheer effort. Karen ran her hands up and down, across his skin soothingly, shushing him. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one feeling the full force of his sporadic absences. Frank slid his body down, moving the bulk of his weight off her, but used her belly as a pillow. She kept her legs spread to accommodate him, carding her fingers through his hair while his held onto her like she’d vanish the second he let go. 

 

This thing between them hadn’t been a gradual build up; their relationship had never been that sort. He’d come into her life in a hail of bullets and bodies hitting the floor. He admitted he pleaded not guilty in that hospital room because he wanted to talk with her. Ask her about his home and what she’d seen. Their bond was instant, loyalty unwavering. They’d protected and defended each other over and over and over again, so falling into bed together that first time meant next to nothing. They’d been so swept up in the chaos around them that it felt natural to channel it somewhere productive. 

 

But just because the feds had cleared him, that didn’t mean he was free. Billy Russo had escaped Homeland’s custody some time ago. Wilson Fisk was decidedly not pleased with his rejection. Hundreds of thugs and criminals were coming out of the woodwork to prove themselves. And Madani  _ still _ kept asking him for help even though she’d tried (and failed) to put him in jail. All of that added up to a life without safety. He couldn’t stay in one place, and he certainly didn’t want to draw attention to Karen. Not after everything. 

 

Karen had never been delusional. She didn’t think that once Rawlins was dead Frank would just revert back to what he was before his family was murdered. She had never been under the impression that him kissing her meant stability or domestication or anything resembling a normal relationship. Karen had never really done normal all that well anyway. She didn’t have a lot of control in their relationship, but he was trying, and that was more than anyone could ever ask of a man like Frank Castle. Karen didn’t want marriage and kids and a house in the suburbs anyway. Some days she worked until she passed out, forgetting to eat or shower or check in with anybody. And she  _ liked _ it that way. Besides, Frank always let her know when he was back, and he never entered her space until she put the flowers in the window. 

 

Not that she ever hesitated to do so. 

 

She curled one of his dark locks around her finger. It had gotten longer. He must have been hiding out most of the time instead of on the move. His breathing evened out under her ministrations, and she smiled when she knew he was asleep. Frank didn’t have to tell her that he slept best in her bed. She just knew it. Absently, she thought she was going to have to remind herself to text Ellison in the morning. Tell him that she wouldn’t be in tomorrow. Frank never stayed long, but while he was there, so was she. Karen refused to miss a second of it.

 

*

 

Frank blinked his eyes open, annoyed at the golden light streaming through the windows. Karen liked natural light. Frank thought it was a good way to get sniped. Difference between a Marine post-combat and a civilian, he guessed. His annoyance grew when he realized he was in bed alone. Usually, he was an early riser. Happened when you barely slept. For whatever reason, whenever he slept at Karen’s, he was out cold until well after 8 AM. Okay, not for whatever reason. For the reason that Karen usually wore him out, and he was pretty convinced she was doing it intentionally, too. 

 

He shoved his face into her pillow, inhaling deep and nuzzling into it. It smelled earthy, like the vanilla in her shampoo, like the way she smelled before she showered, like sex. He had dreams about that smell. He’d made a grave error in telling her that once, and she’d deliberately worn his hoodie while she rode him. He’d worn a different one for the next week and kept the one she’d worn balled up next to his pillow. Drove him insane. Good trip to the loony bin, he guessed. 

 

But he didn’t want to stay in a bed Karen wasn’t in with him. So he rolled out and pulled his boxer briefs on. He looked for his pants, but couldn’t find them and scowled. Damn woman.

 

“Karen!” he called out. 

 

“They’re in the wash!” she called back. He shook his head and shuffled out into the living room, leaning against the doorway to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Once settled, he glowered over at her, perched at the counter with a cup of coffee, lips pulled in and eyebrows to her hairline, looking far too pleased with herself. 

 

“Don’t get clothes today?” he grumbled. 

 

“Nope,” she chirped, lips stretching into a too cute smile. He wanted to sigh and argue about it. Because he shouldn’t stay longer than necessary, but it was too hard to deny her anything when he already gave her so little. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, made his way over, and lifted his hands to her face to kiss her, slow and deep. Karen sighed into it, sounding content and happy just as he liked her to be. 

 

“I’d stay if I could,” he said against her lips.

 

“I know.” 

 

“We’re gettin’ close.”

 

“I know, Frank.” 

 

He groaned pathetically and pushed his forehead against hers. 

 

“Startin’ to sound like a bad record, aren’t I?” 

 

“Worst one I’ve heard yet,” she told him quietly, voice too gentle to be accusing or upset. Woman was a saint. Her hands had come up to his arms, stroking his biceps. His fingertips moved back and forth against the curve of her jaw. They held onto each other like this when they were together, clinging because they knew what was coming next.  _ Needy and greedy _ , he thought facetiously.

 

“You should let me help.”

 

“ _ No _ ,” he ground out. “Not gonna happen.” 

 

Karen slid a leg out to wrap it around his waist, use her heel to bring him closer to her. 

 

“You’re playing chicken, Frank. He’s waiting for a weakness.” She kissed his cheek. “We both know what that it is,” she whispered in his ear. His hands clutched her head tighter, fingers reaching for her hair. 

 

“Won’t let him have you.” 

 

Karen leaned into his touch, not at all intimidated by his ferocity. He wasn’t used to that, and it made him a little dizzy. 

 

“Good,” she said. “Cause I don’t plan on letting him have you either.” She pressed her breasts against him, and he had to bite his lip against the blood rushing south. “He’s got you in  _ limbo _ , Frank. Made you a ghost again. You really gonna let ‘im do that to you? To us?” He felt his face scrunch reflexively in a grimace. His hands had fallen to her neck and she pinched him to get his full attention back. 

 

“I’d do anything you asked of me,” Karen whispered, nuzzling at the hinge of his jaw. “Remember that night you showed up with that bullet in your leg and I--” He kissed her roughly to stop that train of thought, forcing a gasp from her before releasing her with a nip to her lips. She sparkled those pretty blues at him. “Think I did a pretty good job following orders.” 

 

“Karen,” he sighed with a shake of his head. 

 

She kissed him, soundly, like she had nothing better to do in that moment, like she wasn’t trying to convince him to use her as bait to draw Russo out into the open, which would solve all of his problems and get Homeland off his back, but subsequently put Karen smack dab in the middle of Russo’s crosshairs. Completely unacceptable solution, to his mind. Karen knew that. She was bringing it up anyway. Now. After everything. She’d not complained once, not argued with him when he said he had to leave, never asked him where he went or when he’d be back. She didn’t force his hand or ask him for anything more than he could give. As a result, Frank wanted to give her everything. Wanted to make things easier for her. 

 

He rubbed his lips against hers, bringing their kiss to a slow stop, lingering a moment and nuzzled against her. 

 

“I need a plan.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“It  _ will _ take time.”

 

“ _ O _ kay.”

 

“You’ll do what I tell you.” 

 

“O _ kay _ .” 

 

He held a finger up between them. “You will  _ not _ do anything without talking to me first.”

 

“ _ Okay _ !” 

 

“I’ll still say no.”

 

She was giggling by then, pliant in his arms, so he pressed forward to kiss at her neck, behind her ear. 

 

“God, if I knew there were going to be so many rules,” she teased, soft and happy. He snagged her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to draw another gasp from her. He lived for those noises she made for him. After a few moments of all but devouring each other, he got one. Sounded so pretty that he shuddered. 

 

“I’m serious, Karen,” he growled, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not for me, not for anything.” 

 

She slid off her stool, and that was when Frank realized she was wearing his shirt and nothing else. Karen Page had a baffling effect on his ability to focus on detail. She moved out of his grip, only to wind her arms around his neck, push up close to him, bring their faces nose to nose. 

 

“I want you here with me,” she said fiercely, eyes locked on his, “in whatever capacity that means for us. I want to be able to call you, hear from you,  _ see you _ . For more than just a few hours.” He let out a heavy exhale, trying to slow down his heart. Fuck, did it  _ hurt _ . She must have sensed it because she brushed her nose against his. “I’m tired of Billy Russo having any say in what happens to you. That was Maria’s job. My job. Not his.” She tipped her head back slightly, “So we’re going to finish this. No loose ends. Even if that means I’m a sitting duck for whatever sick plan he has for you.” 

 

“ _ Karen _ \--”

 

“I want you safe,” she snapped. “I want you  _ home _ . I’m tired of nagging David to see if he’s heard from you.” 

 

His lips twitch. “You do that?”

 

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Constantly. Trish thinks I’m insane, and I can’t say she’s totally wrong.” 

 

“Most people would kick me to the curb. Make me take the target on my back with me.” 

 

Her smile was closer to a smirk. 

 

“Most people wouldn’t dig a bullet out of your thigh and then--” 

 

He kissed her to stop that comment, smile on his face. 

 

“You’ve  _ got _ to stop talking about that or I’m never letting you leave that bed.” 

 

She pulled a face, lips tugging downward. “Oh? I didn’t know we were in it.” 

 

Her responding shriek of glee when he swept her off her feet and carried her back to the bedroom was more than worth the strain on his back. When he tossed her down, his hands reaching when she rolled on her stomach and arched that perfect ass up toward him, he could only think that a few extra days in her bed couldn’t hurt. Especially if they were going to let Russo know about them anyway. Practice, he told himself, practice for the real thing. 

 

Then he blanketed his body with hers and stopped thinking about Russo altogether. 

 

*

 

The second time Karen meets Billy Russo, she’s handcuffed to a chair. The first time had been that day in the hotel, when he’d taken her gun off her before she went in to interview the senator. She couldn’t say that he’d improved. 

 

“Ms. Page, it’s nice to see you again,” he drawled, stepping into the light of the chilly warehouse. Karen rolled her eyes; holding a hostage in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. How trite. 

 

“It’d be much nicer for me if I weren’t locked to a chair.”

 

He laughed, wagging a finger in her direction. “See, I’ve heard things about you, Karen.  _ Interesting _ things. I know you helped stop Lewis in that hotel the day we met. I know you helped my good friend Frank escape that day. Pretended to be his hostage.” He tipped his head, leaning into the light so that she could see the scars of his ruined face. “Can’t say I’d thank you for it.” 

 

“He should’ve killed you,” Karen spat back. She honestly believed that, too. 

 

“Then we wouldn’t be enjoying this beautiful day together, Karen,” he shot back, feigning offense. “I really shouldn’t be surprised,” he mused, tilting his head at her. “Maria was beautiful, too. But how Frank manages to scrounge you women up, even in all the,” he gestured broadly, “ _ chaos _ , is astounding to me.” Karen sneered at him. “Though, I have to admit he’s made it easy. For me, and the others,” he amended. “I was searching for a pressure point for  _ months _ and then suddenly there’s you. Plastered all over the news. Telling-- _ everyone _ that you helped Frankie-boy escape Homeland. And me. Because you had a  _ bond _ .” He emphasized his contempt for her word choice by using air quotes. “And all the interviews, I mean, wow, Karen.” He swung around on his heel thematically. Thankfully. Because the beeper in Karen’s pocket started buzzing like crazy. He whipped back around to her, wagging his finger.

 

“You were  _ good _ , too. At first, I hesitated because naturally it could be a trap. Then I thought you were just trying to pad your readership to keep your job. But then, then, I figured it out.”

 

“Did you now?” she hissed, jerking her hands uselessly. She couldn’t help it. She knew it was pointless, but he really was pissing her off. This guy was supposed to be Frank’s best friend. His closest friend. He’d known Frank’s kids, gone to their birthday parties, hugged Maria, ate meals with them. All Karen could think was that he hadn’t deserved a damn second of it, not an ounce or an inch of it. 

 

“Yeah,” he told her, too self-satisfied for her to stomach. “I mean, why else would you put on such a display? You thought he was alive, and you were trying to get a message to him. Can’t say I know what it is. Probably along the lines of  _ come fuck me _ .” 

 

“Go to hell.” 

 

“Feisty. Maria was that way, too. Frank does have a type, after all.” He shrugged. “So I took a chance.” He pointed at her with his gun in his hand. “On you. On your ‘bond’ or whatever. I take you, rough you up, put the word out. Frank comes running in like Captain America to rescue the damsel in distress. You’ve got one hell of a crew these days, though.” He smirked. “So I just paid off that bitchy alcoholic private investigator to get me an opening, and voila,” he spread his arms wide, “here were are. Me and Frank’s weakness locked in a cage together.” He was nodding now. “I’m gonna have fun with this.” 

 

Karen couldn’t take it anymore. It was just too much. Especially with the message and Frank, comparing her to Maria, and Jessica, of all people. 

 

She tossed her head back to laugh. 

 

It creepily echoed throughout the warehouse, bouncing off the metal, making her sound insane. She loved it. It was too much. Too  _ easy _ . 

 

“What I say, baby?” she called out into the warehouse, eyes looking beyond Russo now. “Easy pickings.” 

 

“Yes, you did,” he growled back. Frank dropped from the upper landing of the factory floor, seemingly unarmed. Russo turned sharply at the interruption. He almost got a shot off, but was pretty distracted by Jessica beating a door down, entering with Trish and Luke in her wake. 

 

“What I miss?” Jessica called out. She spotted Russo and flung a finger at him. “Ey Luke, that the guy that got Jorge?” 

 

“Why, yes it is.” 

 

Russo shot at Luke first, probably to take out the biggest threat. Naturally, he was appalled when the bullets bounced right off him. He barely had time to react before Jessica grabbed him by the wrist, broke his arm to get his gun. She took it, bent it in half, and gave it to Trish who placed it in a plastic bag.

 

“This will not be admissible in court.”

 

“I don’t think this fuck’s making it to court,” Luke ground out. “What do you think, Castle?” 

 

Frank walked to stand nose to nose with Russo, his friend, his Judas. His eyes didn’t waver, he didn’t flinch, not once. Just stared. And Karen’s heart ached for him in that moment. The only reason Russo was eye level with Frank was because Jessica was holding him up by the scruff of his shirt. He was bent in agony, brow already sweating from pain, clutching his wrenched arm.

 

“I think someone needs to get those cuffs off Karen.”

 

“On it!” Trish volunteered, pulling a pin from her hair and crouching down next to Karen to get the job done. Karen kept her eyes on Frank. 

 

“So what, Frank?” Russo spat, “You running around playing superhero now? After all the things you’ve done? All the people you’ve killed? You still think you’re the good guy?”

 

Frank’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t falter.

 

He raised his gun and shot Russo, point blank, right between the eyes. 

 

“No.” 

 

*

 

“Sweet Christmas,” Luke breathed, letting out a low whistle. “You just--shot him.” 

 

Jessica tossed his body from her in disgust, looking like she wanted to shower. Karen didn’t pay attention to them. Once Trish had the cuffs off her, she was out of her seat and going to Frank. She cupped his neck and he intercepted her by the waist, not taking his eyes off Russo’s limp body. Karen tried to get his attention on her, sighed at the futility of it. But Trish was on the move again. She came up to Frank, hand out impatiently. 

 

“Frank!” she snapped. “Gun, now, please!” He handed it to her without reaction or comment. Karen put her hands to his face, but he was still locked on Russo. Eyes unfocused. 

 

“What are you doing, Trish?” Luke asked, ambling over. 

 

Trish was wiping down Frank’s gun, using the cloth as a glove as she put it in Russo’s hand and wrapping his fingers around it like it had been there at one point. Then, holding it by the muzzle, cloth keeping it clean, she set it away from Russo’s body. 

 

“Obscuring the evidence,” she answered. “Last thing we need is Frank’s fingerprints popping up on Homeland’s radar.”

 

She immediately went to his pockets and started to pull out what she could find. Two phones, a wallet, a wad of cash, another gun. She took one phone and smashed it on the ground. Slipped the other into her pocket. She pulled everything out of the wallet, wiped it clean, and tossed it away from the body. She handed Frank the cash and extra gun. 

 

“I suppose you know what to do with those?” 

 

He nodded dumbly, but didn’t move to take them. Karen pocketed both. Then she turned her attention back to Frank, gripped his chin with her fingers and  _ pulled _ his attention to her. 

 

“Frank, we need to leave.” 

 

“Ooh!” Jessica said, making a grabby hand in Trish’s direction. “Gimme the phone, we can call the cops and ditch it here.” 

 

“Why bother?” Luke said, nudging Russo with his foot. “Somebody’ll find him soon enough.” 

 

“Leave it anyway,” Frank croaked out, sliding an arm around Karen’s waist. “Whoever he’s working for now, they’ll come lookin’ for ‘im.” 

 

“There he is,” Trish said gently. “You okay, big guy?” 

 

“M’fine. Ditch the stuff, go out the back. Don’t let anybody see you. Drive to my safehouse in Queens.” He shoved a hand in his pocket to give Trish the keys. “Jones has the address. Stay low two days. Don’t call when you get back.” 

 

“Where will you go?” Luke asked gruffly. 

 

“Home.” 

  
  



End file.
